


Learning Russian: Kissing

by GunKat



Series: Learning Russian [4]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-20
Updated: 2015-10-20
Packaged: 2018-04-27 08:10:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5040748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GunKat/pseuds/GunKat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part 4 of a series of drabbles and small snippets of the relationship between the Chop Shop girl and the Red Peril to the amusement of the Cowboy. Gaby/Illya hints of Gaby/Illya/Napoleon</p>
            </blockquote>





	Learning Russian: Kissing

Gaby always thought that her first kiss with Illya would be one of those moments from the movies where the music swells and everything right and good with the world happens in that exact instant. They’d come so close so many times, and the tightly wound sexual tension in those moments broke so painfully that it had come close to physically hurting them. She’d always thought that it would be one of those moments that she’d remember for the rest of her life. She’d hated if it came while they were undercover, pretending to be some other couple, set of people so in love with each other they were oblivious to what was around them until it was too late and they had to pull out their real personalities, the wiley MI-5 chop shop girl and the raging bull of a Russian KGB agent. 

Gaby’d always thought that it would be soft and gentle, like the man that Illya turned into around her and only her, he kept his walls up if Napoleon was even in the same building, considering the irritation that man could create just walking into a room. If she had to think of both men just on the way that they looked, she’d think that Napoleon would take women like he took his brandy, straight up and with minimal fuss. Wooing was for when he was on the job. Illya, she suspected, was a closet romantic. He’d had little time for fun or romance while in the KGB and considering his relationship with family, she suspected that he would be fiercely loyal to anyone that made it past that hard outer shell.

Gaby’d also thought their first kiss would be sweet like summer rain, landing gently and washing away all the pain of seeing each other on missions with others. When she needed to be Napoleon’s wife were the worst, because neither of them could hate Solo for it, it was a job, one he and she and they needed to do, do well and convincingly, in order to get out alive. Even if she kept another ring on a soft chain around her neck, refusing to let go of it even as another sat in it’s place. If not like rain then the storms, full of passion and lightning and wanting for the other person so fierce as each of them tossed aside everything else. 

But it wasn’t. It was hard and quick and so full of need. It was him with a broken arm and her with a broken rib and both of them with the indomitable certainty that if things didn’t change very soon, if Solo didn’t find them very very soon, they were both going to die horrible deaths at the hands of the Nazi sympathizers that had cornered them. 

But he did, swooping in as he always did, a little tardy but with significant force and a convoluted escape plan that had them shivering as they dodged bullets running across the rooftops. Illya pulled her close with his good arm, shielding her as much he could with his bulk as they hit the edge and then went straight onto the zip line, Illya shoving her at Napoleon so hard that her feet didn’t even touch the ground before they were off to where the truck was parked, where she waited to help ease in Illya as his weight bowed the line so he barely cleared the truck opening, unable to hold on with both arms, one of them dangling uselessly by his side. Napoleon clipped the line, as he always did, and the truck was off. Napoleon took only a moment to close the door then he was fluttering around the two of them, setting Illya’s arm, and wrapping her ribs before tucking the two of them together. Gaby thought the two of them might forget that it even happened.

But they didn’t. It took two weeks for Illya to even look her in the eye again, and only when she threatened to get out of bed to wrestle him, broken arm or no, when she was on strict bed rest did he comply.


End file.
